Iced Heart
by Cabbie Esq
Summary: Tea Delgado has returned to defend Todd Manning, except he's not the real deal. Her Todd has gone missing and she's determined to bring him home to Llanview to oust the imposter. Reviews appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

Iced Heart

Tea Delgado felt dirty as she got up from Todd's bed, leaving him with a satisfied grin. Standing beneath the shower head's rain, she studied her painted toenails, watched the bubbly water tour the drain and slide away, only to be replaced by more water. When she dried her hair, her body hidden beneath a soft towel, she momentarily believed she was back at the beach house. The smell of the ocean tickled her nose. Shaking her head, she shooed away thoughts of him. _Him_. _Her. They_. Todd banged on the door, charming and cutesy. Rolling her eyes, she drank directly from the faucet.

"I'm not doing this anymore, Todd."

"Doing what, sweetheart? Loving me, being the love of my life?"

He turned the handle but she'd locked the door so he couldn't come in. He stepped away from the door, whistling. That was Todd...respecting people's boundaries, calling her sweetheart, being a fantastic lover. So considerate of her body. He never orgasmed until she did. Twice. Three times?

Jesus. He was a real Don Juan, this one.

A flash of heat spread throughout her from her core, a physical memory - a hard floor or unmade bed or the sofa by the window facing a dark Atlantic surf, his unforgiving body selfishly pushing into her, sweat on his skin, on hers, his hair in her fists. Sometimes he'd wait for her, other times he didn't care. A panting, desperate need for her that was never satisfied. So ... little ... consideration.

She opened the door and noticed he had left breakfast on a tray next to the bed. She picked at the fruit, the cheese squares (so nicely and perfectly cut, like a chef did it), the flower petals. The orange juice was spiked with champagne. She drank that down fast. She thought of calling RJ Gannon to get under this man's skin. Just for fun. Just to poke a stick at the alligator. Most likely, he'd laugh off her indiscretion and get right back to the romancing. No alligator here, _mi amor._

Tea arrived in Llanview on a mission and so far she'd failed miserably. She managed to get no proof of anything whatsoever, confused Blair Cramer to the point of insanity, and found herself embroiled in a ridiculous tangle of legal cases and sex romps that meant nothing to her. Todd was convinced she loved him (along with every other woman in Llanview), acted like a real scoundrel, and nobody noticed the difference. He smiled far too much. The real indicator of all not being right in the world was Todd's affair with Marty Saybrooke. His deep depression made sense, but what didn't was his real, honest-to-god, long-abiding love for Marty, a woman who at one time embodied all that was evil about him, who contained the truth of him. That he could love her was not possible.

And yet, nobody noticed.

She heard him downstairs, cooing, "Why don't you come down, lover-girl...?"

Why indeed? What he didn't know, what nobody knew, was that the real love of her life resided nowhere near Llanview, Pennsylvania.

"If he could see me now...," she sang softly to herself, patting her empty belly. She squeezed shut her eyes, love and sorrow pressing her to the point of breathlessness. Her...love...he had grown so afraid, so...sad. He had shut her out entirely. One day, without warning, he did the unthinkable. He disappeared into the Alaska wilds with their beautiful child in tow. Tea was beside herself in sheer disbelief that he could have done such a thing. She had searched for months, engaging police, private detectives, everything, anybody. She cried an ocean's worth of tears until she received a phone call from him, his voice cracking across the distance, heavy with his conscience and broken psyche.

"I have no explanation," he murmured.

Their 5 year-old daughter, Sierra, was about to land in Puerto Rico to be reunited with _Abuelita_. He was sorry, he said. "Please forgive me, precious woman of mine." Then he hung up. The silence of that moment filled her with a swirl of unnamed emotions of a massive range. When Tea finally had her daughter, she could hardly breathe with relief. She hated him for depriving her for so long, and yet...Sierra was happy, healthy, and missed her father terribly. "Oh mama! The adventures we had!" Tea smelled her daughter's hair, the scent of the sea, of joy. Of utter peace in the warmth of her mother's arms once again. In the end Tea had trusted him with their daughter. She knew he was on a lonely journey and simply needed the company of his child, of her innocent soul. Forgiveness though was hard in coming. As was everything when it came to him.

Sierra remained in Puerto Rico for now, safe and secure from his insanity. From Tea's. Every night she spoke to her, every night she sang lullabies into a cell phone.

"Where is daddy?"

"I don't know, _mija_."

"Where are you, mama?"

"I...don't know exactly...somewhere far from you. I'll be home soon."

More than anything Tea wanted to go to Sierra, but she needed to be here. She had to finish this game. She had to get his life back for him. Even if perhaps he could not be here to live it. The real Todd Manning needed to have a home once again. Perhaps if his kingdom was returned to him, he would return as well.

Tea knocked on Viki's door, the wood hard and unwelcoming. When Viki answered, she shook her head with suspicion, saying her visitor's name coldly, "Tea."

Understanding the hostility, Tea said, "Will you let me explain?"

In defending Todd from the rape of Marty Saybrooke, Tea had seemingly sided with a man who had turned his back on Jessica's mental breakdown. Jessica had splintered once again and Todd used it to maintain his romance of Marty. Viki held it against Tea now.

"I had no idea, Viki. She was unfortunate collateral damage."

"He needs help, not rescuing from a crime. What he did to Marty is unforgivable. As is what he did to Jessica. He should have gone to prison."

They sat in the living room over tea in china cups, scones on matching plates, and milk in a silver creamer. Tea poured the milk, and took a deep breath before she said crazy-sounding words.

"Todd is not Todd...what he did wasn't rape, wasn't a re-rape, it was a romance. He did what he did to Jessica because he did not see her as an ill person, much less his niece."

"Jesus, Tea...when will you stop excusing him?"

"Viki, listen to me carefully, please. Give me a chance."

Viki's gaze was that of a stone cutting, indeed her brother's kin. "Speak," she said.

The words would indeed be crazy. Tea paused, almost deciding not to share. She'd kept this to herself far too long, though. She desperately needed an ally. Bowing her head in decision, she told.

"The Todd you know, here in Llanview, is someone else. You might have known him as Walker Lawrence, a con man. He is fooling you."

The clock chimed two o'clock. Viki stirred her tea. Watched the tiny waves in her cup cease moving. "Impossible," she said. "We did a DNA test..."

Tea smiled gently, "I know you did. Viki, I suspect this person...is Todd's blood brother. I do not know his real identity. Is that possible? Could Todd...have a twin?"

Across the coffee table, Viki's features froze in a kind of suspension, a deep, painful consideration. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. Could it be true? She had listened to Tea after all.

"Anything is possible," she said, setting her tea cup down. She pushed about pieces of scone, crumbs really. "My father was a monster. That he would not only deprive Irene of one child, but two..." She gathered herself and faced Tea directly, her gaze piercing and weighty. "He knows so much, though. He speaks from a place of_...knowing..."_

"He's beyond a con man. He believes himself to be Todd. The research is impeccable. Maybe it's more than research, maybe it's hypnosis. Maybe...someone else..."

Tea watched as Viki stood and walked to the doors that opened onto her English garden. "Tea, you know that I had Natalie in addition to Jessica."

"Yes."

"If I could have twins and not know…maybe it could have happened another time. Maybe other children…were born to me and I don't know about it."

"You mean…Todd…"

"To think perhaps there were two...it rather breaks me." Viki bent her head and shook it, "Tea...if it's so, then where is he?" Her face crumpled, "Please, this would mean Mitch Lawrence succeeded in killing my brother. I was so relieved..."

"He's alive, Viki." Tea looked down in shame, avoiding those harsh blue eyes. The silence emphasized an arrogant sniffle across the room.

"You know this?"

"Yes, Todd Manning, the man I loved, your brother, is alive. I know so because...I lived with him in Georgia for four years with our daughter, Sierra. I lived with him until very recently."

Viki reached out and grabbed the back of a wing chair, a fine chair with delicate shells in the fabric, shells embedded in a soft yellow to match the lightness of the room. It withstood her hard grasp. It belied its strength. "Jesus," she whispered. "You are as much a monster as my father! How could you be here and not say anything? Four years..."

Tea cringed and snapped shut her eyes, wishing to be gone, disappeared into the wilds of Alaska. "He wouldn't let me tell anyone…"

She opened her eyes when she felt Viki's hands on her shoulders, grabbing her, shaking her, "Where is he now? Where is Todd?"

"I don't know! He left me. He took Sierra for four months to Alaska...he returned her to Puerto Rico, and I don't know where he is now. It's why I'm here, Viki." The two women stared each other down, both pleading with the other for understanding, both finding in each other only pools of sadness, confusion, disbelief.

Viki let go and sat once more on her sofa. She reached for her tea cup and the cup shook against the saucer. "It's gone cold." Two tears rolled off her cheek. "A twin...Todd missing...a daughter, you say?"

"Sierra. She's beautiful. Reminds me of Starr. I miss her everyday."

"Why have you lied? What are you doing, romancing this...Walker? It's sick what you're doing."

It wasn't the first time someone accused her of illness over her choices. "Hard to explain. Misguided efforts, maybe. Maybe a wish to think it was Todd. Maybe a way to get back at him. I don't know. Whatever it is, it's over. I've cut him off. Look, Walker is a con man. He wanted Todd's life and he took it. I don't know the history other than this person was an orphan. He lived his life by being a gigolo of sorts. At some point he decided to become Todd Manning via Mitch Lawrence. He got that plastic surgery..."

"But why do it that way? Why the plastic surgery if he already looked like Todd?"

"I don't know the answer to that. I do know...that man...is not Todd."

"Well...let's go over there-"

"And we will, only I need to prove this first beyond any doubt. So far, I've failed utterly. I ended up in some...romance...for lack of a better word in error."

"You slept with him in...error? Come on, Tea."

"I have no defense. A plan out of hand. My Todd left me. I was angry. Still am. But I'm renewed in my mission. My Todd is ill – the fact that he's still absent, tells me he's still ill."

Viki stood up again, pacing, angry again. "But WHY hide? Why live a life with you in hiding? Why deprive his family of his daughter? WHY? All he has to do is show up at my door! Wouldn't that be proof enough that the Todd in his house is a fraud?"

Tea sighed...how to explain the inner workings of Todd Manning? "Betrayal."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Didn't he hide when he returned from Ireland because of a betrayal?"

Viki paused. An admission. "Yes. But what betrayal was there now?"

"Walker is nothing like Todd and yet an entire city believed it was. My Todd stood by and watched his ex-wife, his daughter, his sister, everyone he ever knew, as they each accepted the impossible as truth. In his words, 'they have forgotten me. They have replaced me with a false god.'"

Viki laughed and held her face in her hands...wasn't it just like Todd to say such a preposterous thing? Her heart then sank and her stomach jumped as she too realized yet another impossibility. "My god...it's true then."

"Yes, Viki, it's true. He has not changed his face, or removed his scar. Of course, he is damaged from what Mitch Lawrence did to him."

"What did he do? I knew Mitch tried to kill him..."

"Mitch put him in Victor Lord's tomb. He was left there, encased for a long while."

"My god."

"He got out with his own strength, broke fingers to do it, dislocated body parts to get out of bindings, only to run into Mitch and his bodyguards...he was taken again and beaten to within an inch of his life. The bastards took him, to dump him. They drove hours and hours. Left him again. Shot him in the head, Viki, shot him to finish him off, because god damn it he wouldn't die. Only still he didn't. A miracle...his hard head, the bullet simply didn't penetrate." Tea laughed aloud, then she didn't. "He was found wandering in a small Mexican village, close to the Texas border. He was...broken. He had no idea how he got there. A family helped him recover. Mostly."

"How did you find him?"

Tea smiled, lost for a moment in the past, "I didn't...he found me."

He chuckled as the die hit the magic eleven, the final count showing four and seven on the floor against the bar's wall. The drunken men cheered and Todd grabbed the bills and the last desperate coins tossed in, sweeping it all close to him like a child grabs up candy. Down on his haunches, he smiled a half smile, his mouth shifting to the side, as if he wasn't quite convinced of the humor. The fisherman hadn't played craps before but this street version had been a good "ice" breaker when he first landed in the small fishing village of Bakkavik. He usually didn't win, but tonight he'd had a run of good luck.

Before he could rub his winnings in anyone's face though he felt a gun's muzzle tight against his head. He glanced up at the holder of the weapon. Not a surprise really. He'd seen something like this in an Indiana Jones movie. The noise dipped, everyone taking a peek at the sudden turn of events.

"You're kidding, right?" Todd licked his lips and turned his head fully to face the dark threat. He pushed a lock of his long chestnut-colored hair behind his ear, and rubbed his grey-tinged full beard. Hazel-colored eyes evaluated the threat.

The room was hot from the flames of a fire in a massive pit. Music from an old jukebox played in the background, blues by B.B. King. The air smelled of sweat, burning logs, and fish. Vodka ran through the veins of all in the room, making them short on intellect and long on quick tempers. Bakkavik was in the furthest northern stretch of Iceland, a fishing village that got rather rough at night in the dead of winter, during the fishing season when there was only three hours of daylight. All that darkness made people a little...crazy.

Todd smiled and spoke softly, "What did I do?"

The woman with the gun was no lady. She had the foot plant of a warrior and the constitution of the best fishermen in the room. She acted like she'd shot a man or two. Todd felt the strength of her aim, and resolve, in her fearless grip of the gun. He'd already been watching her for a couple of hours gambling with the rest of the men. She hadn't stood out. Now she did. Now she meant business. Shoving the gun harder against him, she croaked in the country's language, "Give me my money back or I will kill you, American Man."

The room laughed in unison because although Todd Manning was an American, he was also someone who didn't care if he died and as such he had nothing to lose. It was what won the respect of the men in the room. He'd been working with them for months. He took the kinds of risks on the boats that few ever would. He also could drink most, if not all of them, right under the table. For Northern men who grew up on the harshest drink of the north, Icelandic moonshine made from fermented potatoes, that was an amazing accomplishment. The woman...she was new in town. She hadn't yet earned their respect.

In one smooth action, Todd got to his feet, grabbed the gun by its muzzle and grabbed her by the lapels of her coat. He quickly pressed the weapon against her cheek, she immobilized by him. He grinned again, that same half smile, and said in crisp Icelandic loud enough for most to hear, "By the end of this night, not only will I have taken your money, but I'll have this gun in my belt, your scent on my fingers and cock, and you will be thanking me in the morning." With the hand that held the weapon, he grabbed the back of her head and forcefully kissed her, his tongue deep in her mouth, his other hand having left her lapels and finding her throat.

She gasped once he released her and slapped him hard as hell, bringing blood, all to uproarious laughter, her eyes large and her mouth open in...shock. Todd licked the blood off his lip, stuck the revolver into his belt, got back down to the floor, and began to count his money in perfect Icelandic tinted with his American accent. The woman had to be held back and he ignored her shrieks.

Todd leaned toward one of the men as he handed a pile of money to him, and said, "Buy her a bottle of Reyka. That'll settle her down." The two laughed conspiratorially and nodded their heads in agreement. Dagur, Todd's closest friend in Bakkavik, did just that. The game continued for a while longer, a few more throwing down more money, but soon it ended for Todd and he wandered the room, finally landing in a booth with his own fresh bottle of vodka. The woman with the gun found her way to him, sliding into the booth across from him, settled by the booze. She slammed down the bribe on the table. It was half empty. She filled a shot glass once more and tipped it through full lips.

"You are a bastard," she said in English.

"That I am," Todd slurred, drinking straight from the bottle, lounging across the seat like a sated panther.

"Give me my gun back."

"In the morning. I still have goals to accomplish."

"You think you're going to fuck me?"

He grinned and nursed the bottle a bit more. Elvis Presley sang about his blue suede shoes and people were loose enough to start dancing. Todd chuckled. He eyed her lasciviously and then his eyes drifted back to the bottle. He was drunk.

"Go to sleep, woman, and stop worrying about your money." He eyed her again. She was pretty enough. She'd probably be a good one in bed. Hard, demanding, wet. Her blue eyes contrasted nicely with her black hair. She looked Russian. They all did. A strong nose, high cheek bones, a well-muscled body to grab onto.

Her eyes opened wider, as if he'd been thinking out loud. Maybe he had.

"Holy shit, you bastard, you really do think you're going to fuck me!"

He laughed hard and tilted his head, offering her a kindly expression. "Listen...?"

"Bjorn."

"Ahh...Bjorn." The shift in language made him switch to Icelandic. "I have a nice warm room down the block, and a nice warm bed. I've got a fireplace, more drink, and no fishing to do for a few days. You're pissed at me for god knows what...let me...pay you back."

She leaned back in the booth and he felt her booted foot next to his thigh. He chuckled and looked down. She pressed the hard sole against his crotch and he slid his hand up her flannel-lined pant leg, feeling smooth bare skin.

"You'd trust me in your bed," she said, "after I threatened to kill you?"

He laughed quietly and said in English, "So what...I die in bed with a woman...how bad can it be?"

It was then she noticed in his eyes, a kernel of truth, and probably his means of always getting what he wants from men...and women. He needed saving. And one day, someone was going to save him right to hell.

"You certainly are a bastard," she laughed.

He pulled the gun from his belt and placed it on the table. "She's yours."

"You don't think I'm going to use it?"

"What would that accomplish? If I'm dead, how will you get your money back? I spent all of it tonight on booze, craps, and that damned jukebox."

She sighed and took his bottle of Reyka, tilting it back and chugging it to the point of near-empty. She put it down and he nodded to her in admiration. She took the revolver and placed it into a pocket in her coat.

"Where did you learn Icelandic, American? You're good."

"On the boats. Where did you learn English, Bjorn?"

"In London. I was schooled there."

"Good scotch in England."

The conversation stopped and he drank the last drop of the bottle. The two of them drank the last of hers. The night was long these days. He glanced his watch and it said near midnight. When he stood, he wavered a bit, and Bjorn got next to him. The two looked at one another warily.

"I'll walk you to your room," she said, her expression obvious and inviting.

Todd reached and touched her dark hair, imagining another. Her face swam in front of him, blurring into that of another. Noise broke the trance, men slapping each other's backs over another game of dice.

Over her shoulder, Todd caught the eyes of Dagur who laughed and shook his head before calling out in Icelandic, "Goodnight, American Man, sleep tight and don't let bugs bite your ass while you're fucking them!" The men all laughed and Bjorn cussed them out as she walked out the door into the snowy night. The chill air pushed them back a tad, but they moved forward. She leaned on him, the alcohol making her brave and wanting a man's heat.

The two walked and she said, "Who is she that I see in your eyes? Who has your heart?"

"Nobody," Todd mumbled, the drink clouding the line between reality and dreams. "Nobody has my heart...because I don't have one." He stumbled and Bjorn caught him.

"Where's your room?" she asked.

"On the beach where I can see the surf. At night the waves shine you know, the white edges touched by the moon and you can see the endless dark of the ocean. The sand blends in and just that white you can see. Easy to get lost there."

There was no beach here, only a harbor.

"What is your name, American Man?"

"My name?" He walked away from her some feet and put his arms out in mock drama. "I am Thar, god of thunder!" He dropped his arms, shrugged and laughed quietly at the name he'd been given on the boats. Thomas Lord just hadn't seemed Icelandic enough for the men, for a man who seemed so very well fit for the tough life of Northern fishermen.

"Impressive."

He looked at a quaint stone duplex. Two painted red doors sat right next to each other, the building divided in two comfy rooms with the smallest of kitchens and bathrooms. He glanced upwards at the moon. He wavered again. His words softened. He reached for Bjorn's hand. "Here's my room, Tea...come with me...love me. Like you always do."

Bjorn looked at him and could see the drink had taken over him, too, in a way different from how it affected her. Who was this...Tea? The woman who had his heart. He grabbed her and kissed her at the door, his hands roaming and settling in soft places that made her gasp. He kissed her neck and sighed. He dug for keys and found a set, fighting the lock when he tried. She steadied his hand and he looked at her. He turned the key gently and the door opened. She followed him in and closed the door behind her.

With little effort, in the dark of the cold room, he pushed Bjorn onto the bed and stripped her of her clothes as he shed his. When he pressed himself inside of her, his heart felt heavy with the absence of his beloved Tea and his baby girl Sierra. He heard their voices in his head, and saw their faces. He saw Tea in this stranger beneath him and he knew he was doing it again. Trying to replace the irreplacable, trying to undo the damage that ran so deep. He panted Tea's name over and over...trying to make the illusion real.

When Bjorn called out his Icelandic name, reality slammed into him and he went with yet another illusion as his body wouldn't let him retreat. With her saying this different and strange name, he felt himself a different person, a strong, hearty man, someone with no secrets and no wounds and no gruesome stories to tell. He continued his work more freely – he let the physical relieve him of his hurts. He wasn't Todd anymore – Todd was in Llanview, living his life. He no longer deserved it. Mitch Lawrence had made sure of that. Emptied Todd of all he was worth.

He belonged here – he'd die here. Maybe he already had.

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

Iced Heart 2

"He found you?" Viki wasn't so much asking as confirming. The two walked onto the porch to enjoy the winter sun. Tea had come clean at last, for the first time in a very long while, and it felt good. She stood with her hands on her hips, her face to the sun. A weight had been lifted, and yet, her heart ached as much as it did the moment she realized Todd had kidnapped their daughter. Things were so complicated. Walker was probably wooing Blair as sure as the sun's rays touched her skin.

"Yes," she said, turning to Viki. "I was living my life. I had recovered from his abandonment of me on that...island. I was working in Florida, in Orlando's district attorney's office and loving it. I had an apartment. I was a hop, skip, and a jump from Puerto Rico and my grandmother." She sighed in recalled happiness, a soft smile that quickly faded. "I don't deny I was lonely." She remembered the simple pleasure of her little apartment. She remembered turning the key and liking the quiet, the tick-tock, the oooh-ahhh of the refrigerator, and the hushed noise of the street coming through the bathroom window.

"No romance?" Viki reached and held Tea's hand for a moment, surprising Tea.

"No. Nothing felt right. I tried...a couple of times. I chose not to continue the relationships." That was all code for one-night stands that went nowhere. She'd take them home, or go home with them. She'd toss them into the dark or steal away before the night's fog dissipated.

"So how did Todd find you?"

"I wasn't hiding. He told me he knew I'd be practicing law so he checked every state bar in the country. From there it was a matter of the white pages," she chuckled. "I came home one evening and there he was, waiting at the door. He had new scars on his face from the beating he'd gotten from Mitch's bodyguards. He was...skittish. More than that. I reached to touch him and he flinched. A door slammed and he jumped. I stepped back, afraid to move, completely shocked. He then walked toward me, and just held me. For so long we stood that way, on the walkway to my apartment."

Birds flew past and intertwined in the garden and Viki watched them. Clouds drifted, making shadows on the concrete deck, a few looking like rain.

"Mitch...," Viki sighed, beginning a thought.

"Mitch broke him. He never quite recovered. He tried so hard. We had our beautiful daughter, Sierra, after that. We were...okay. We had a nice little life together. For a while."

"But something made it less so."

"Yes. A newspaper." Tea looked at Viki, willing the information to pass through to her. It did not take long.

"Of course. He saw the execution."

"Exactly. We'd been talking about returning to Llanview so he got a hold of a paper and there in black and white was the story of 'Todd Manning' being executed for murder. All the progress he made at getting back a semblance of a life after what Mitch had done to him was destroyed. He was still so fragile but I didn't know. I didn't realize it! This...thing that Walker did meant something so much more than just a con job. Something deep was triggered and he...imploded. Showed me how fragile he was by taking my daughter on some...insane..." Tea gritted her teeth, her hands tightened into fists, her brows knitted with tension.

"A journey into madness," Viki concluded, sounding more familiar than observational.

"Yes. Four months he kept her."

"My god..."

"Four months I was in agony. I finally got a phone call and the next I knew my beautiful child was in Puerto Rico and he was gone. Off the face of the earth. I hated him for what he did. Once the hatred passed though, I searched for him, finding nothing. Not a trace. Maybe he killed himself, I wondered. But something told me otherwise. Something told me...he needed to come alive again and was searching for that...fire...or experience...or..." She shrugged, at a loss for words.

"Like Frankenstein...needed a shock."

Tea smiled, "Yes, maybe. His escape was just that...an effort to come to himself. And it failed. That's when I decided to come here. To assess the damage. Maybe if I rebuild his kingdom...it will be what he needs. The thing to draw him home. Maybe the killing of Walker will be the fire he needs."

"But not a literal killing."

Tea shrugged.

"How are you going to do this without Todd himself? Walker...is Todd. This is going to be quite the trick. DNA evidence won't do it. They're identical twins." Viki paused at that thought. Identical twins. She turned away again. Looking in the distance, saying softly... "Such a trick to perform."

"A confession maybe? I don't know. Walker needs his life broken down, his possessions weakened. His sense of self rocked. He needs to be confused."

Viki agreed. But how does one rock this perfect world Walker had created? How does one confuse...the un-confuse-able?

Tea looked up from her meditation upon her brown shoes, pointed delicately, strong...leather...shoes.

"He needs to be broken, Viki. Broken to the point of madness."

From beneath the heavy covers of his bed, he spied a mostly naked woman heating water for tea on his miniature stove in his miniature kitchen. The only word out of his mouth was, "shit," in true-blue English.

"So, American Man, Thar, God of Thunder, you are shy the morning after?"

That's right, he reminded himself, he wasn't Todd anymore. He left that fragmented, twisted asshole behind in Alaska the moment he put his precious angel on a plane to Puerto Rico. The moment he hung up the phone after telling Tea where Sierra was. Yes, he was someone else now. Someone who was charming yet crass, hardened and enlivened by Icelandic water and vodka. Thar loved dark-haired women, American music and the brotherhood that came from northern fishermen. Thar had no cuts within him that reached an ocean's depth. No, Thar was beautiful and free. He'd be slapping the girl's ass and fucking her again right at that miniature stove, tea cup and sugar in her hands.

Todd Manning however...was very much in the bed. "Yes," he whispered, sinking deeper into the covers. Shyness was far better than what was ticking inside of him. "Please go."

Bjorn snorted in disbelief. "Oh come on, Thar...let's take advantage of the boats being grounded." She closed the gap between them, slithering under the covers next to him. Her hands stroking his head, his rough beard, his shoulders. He squirmed at her touch, trying not to be Todd. Her hands slipped down his chest and grabbed onto soft betraying flesh. He jerked at her violation of his space and battled the snapping of civil restraint. She pleasingly hummed as his body reacted instinctively to her touch, believing his quickened breaths and violent twitches were that of delight rather than revulsion. Her dark hair smelled of the sea, her skin of female sweat. Their bodies clashed together, a disaster of misunderstanding, but he could not pretend anymore and at last grabbed her arms with unleashed aggression. The tightness made her yelp in pain. He moved her away from him, shoving her to the side. The silence in the room deafened her as she looked directly at him, seeing something indescribable in his face. Her mouth slacked in humiliated shock.

"I asked you to leave. I asked nicely." Todd's voice came through much too much on that one and Bjorn moved off the bed. Shivering now with bubbling indignation, she covered her body with her arms.

"I'm sorry," she said, her tone cold. "I thought you liked what we did. I thought you were...like all other men." She grabbed her clothes and began dressing. She watched out the window at the snow coming down and began to think maybe she was lucky in getting away with mere embarrassment. She squinted and eyed the clock on the wall. "I do have business to attend in a few hours." She yanked her boots on, huffed as she put on her coat. The tea kettle began shrieking. She did nothing to stop it.

Swallowing hard and trying to reach Thar inside of himself, trying to be that nicer person, he sat up, and pushed down the covers to slide towards the edge of the bed. He was exposed in the muted morning light. Scars snaked across his body in all directions and he saw Bjorn's eyes move along his skin. He felt her inquisitive gaze as deeply as if she'd been scratching him with a jagged knife. Within he cringed. Countering his instinct, ever attempting to be Thar, he sought her hand. He grabbed her wrist and kissed it.

She let him...feeling she had no choice. She dared not move lest he decide to be unkind again.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, resorting to quiet in order to hide his true self. He felt her trembling and it filled him with guilt. "I'm a grouch in the morning... to everyone. Last night was nice. More than nice." Even if he could hardly remember it.

Bjorn pulled away from him, unsure now if he was just a bastard, a serial killer, or hung-over fisherman. Deciding he was just a bastard, she pushed him back, laughing to herself at his nakedness, at the obvious vulnerability of men in general. One well-aimed punch would cut down that arrogant lion quick. They all had that in common. As if he could read her mind, he covered himself. She shook her head. "It's okay," she said. "We got what we wanted. You needed company; I did too." She turned off the heat on the small stove to stop the yell of the kettle. When she opened the door, unforgiving cold seeped into the room, sending Todd well under the covers.

She paused at the open door, turning to look at him once again. "By the way, Thar, my name is not...Tea. It is Bjorn. When you're fucking a woman, it's always better to use her name, and not the name of another." The bed shook with the slammed door.

He was alone now. As it should be. The wind whipped up outside and he wished for the sun come out again. Iceland had crazy weather - he knew this blizzard of sorts wouldn't last all day. By the afternoon, the temperature would rise, the snow would settle. How the hell did Bjorn end up in his bed? He could not recall the vodka-infused night. He remembered drinking, losing at dice, drinking, then winning, then drinking some more and laughing with his fellow crewmen. Skál! _Cheers! _Everything after was blurred. Not that he was surprised. It happened before. Drinking to oblivion followed by finding a stranger in his bed. A dark-haired stranger willing to touch him, willing to please him. Willing to be used. He rolled his eyes and flopped back to stare at the exposed wooden beams above. Every morning after was also the same. He woke up angry and territorial over his space. This time he had called her name out. That he hadn't heard before. That was new.

"Tea. Tea..."

He wanted to talk to her again. He wanted to see Sierra and talk to her, too. He remembered their life together. The sweetness of it. He remembered being unable to stay, their hard-won life slipping through his fingers like sand. Numb. Paralyzed. He looked at a stack of papers on the dresser. There was a Llanview paper in a large manila envelope there. He'd called the Banner two weeks ago and had it sent. The operator thought it was funny to hear a request from so far away and he simply gave the story of being on a world tour and missing home. She had laughed and said she'd send a few papers. He got the papers and there they sat. Untouched. Unread.

The last time he'd looked at a paper, he'd broken into pieces. His grasp on reality simply ended. Sierra had been his only connection to humanity. He swept her in his arms and walked out the door. He walked and walked and did not recognize the sound of his own voice. He'd ask Sierra over and over, "Do you know who I am?" Yes, you're my daddy. He'd smile and she'd kiss him thinking he was playing a game. But he wasn't. Mitch had torn him to pieces and Walker took over his real life. Todd was alive in Llanview...so who was this person with Sierra? He'd look in the mirror and see the scars and broken nose and broken cheekbones and he did not know himself. So he quieted and watched time pass as he and Sierra made their way across the country into the icy land of Alaska. He listened to his Sierra talk, her voice a tether to his soul. She grew accustomed to his silence and odd questions. Alaska had been exciting for her. She was anxious to see the icebergs and the polar bears. He knew she had to go back to Tea when he could no longer fight the desire to simply lie down in the ice and never speak again.

"Tea...Tea...Delgado. Ahhhhh..."

Clearing his throat, he tried again.

"Viltu dansa við mig?" _Will you dance with me? _Thar had a fine, fine voice.

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

Iced Heart 3

My god, Tea thought, how predictable that Walker came rushing to Blair's home as soon as he got Tea's message that they needed time apart. His car was parked in the driveway, rose petals on the ground outside the driver's side door. Tea had come to talk to Blair, to make peace with her in a most un-Tea-like fashion. Her plan was to rock Walker's world, to...confuse him. Making up with Blair was one way to do that. Becoming...sisters. It would throw him off-balance. And that was just the beginning of her loose and untried plan.

She didn't want to think about the unreliability of it all. Better to make an effort at this plan than to answer Viki's parting shot at Tea:

"Once Todd returns, will you forgive him for taking your daughter all that time? If he returns to his kingdom, will you be his queen once more?"

_I have no answer to that._

Tea leaned against Walker's favorite car, his beloved 1976 Jaguar. Very un-Todd-like. Todd liked sports cars and big macho trucks. Again, nobody noticed the change. Why the ancient car? She walked around it, taking in the long lines, the round headlights, the dual exhaust pipes, the heaviness of old stainless steel. Four doors. There was something about this car. Odd that he chose it. He never drove any other one. Not like Todd who rather liked his obscene stable of vehicles. No, Walker never wavered from this one. She wrote down the license plate number. She'd do some digging. There was a slight dent on the rear fender. Again, it looked...old. She kneeled and ran her fingers along the edges of the dent. No foreign paint. Just...an un-repaired indentation.

Blair's voice carried over the back fence, "Get real, _Todd._ You know you're gonna run back like an old hound dog the moment she says, 'come,' so don't give me that all-alone bullshit."

"No, Blair, she meant it. I could tell. So I'm here, ready to get back to the way things were."

"So NOW you want your kids, your...family? Is that what these roses are all about? You didn't want us when you were banging your lawyer in a court room."

"Wha...hey, how'd you know about that?"

"Please...who doesn't know about that?"

"Look, I brought the flowers for you, from my heart. And for the kids."

"You know what, take your bullshit someplace else. Get out. And call next time."

"What? Can't I come and see _my wife_ whenever I want? You're saying I need a god damn appointment?"

"I haven't been your wife in a long, long time..."

Doors opened and slammed. He chased her inside_. _The argument most certainly continued. Walker had Todd's possessiveness down, that was for sure. Tea planned on waiting a few minutes before going in there, sweet and compliant and forgiving. Willing to give up all for the sake of his beloved Cramer family. Please, she would tell him, be with Blair and your family. Admit you love them and go be with them. That's what she'd say. That's where she'd begin to confuse him. Blair would wonder what was up because Tea being so compliant would be out of character. Blair wouldn't take him back out of self-preservation, but she'd be tempted. Walker would pine for his wonderful, self-sacrificing Tea, but Blair would be protective over her family and suspicious. So she'd make life difficult for Walker. Tea planned some darker moves, too. Evidence that Walker...er...Todd...wanted to retake custody. Yes, that would seal the deal for Blair. She'd get full custody of the kids.

Walker would lose Tea, Blair, his kids...

Then came the paper. As she stood there on the driveway, her alter ego, Dama Trust Corporation, was making an aggressive bid for the controlling interest in the Sun. The board of director's were frothing at the mouth at the offer. Walker wasn't going to be able to counter it because Tea's company had invested a boat load of cash into the Banner, the Sun's biggest competitor, and as a result severely wounded the Sun's already-lagging advertising draw. Yes, gut Walker's perfect world, and drive him into a perfect state of confusion. Confusion would lead to madness. Madness would reveal who he really was.

_But will you be Todd Manning's queen? Will you forgive him his vile, unforgivable transgressions?_

In the news this morning was a story about a woman whose husband kidnapped her girls for 19 months. He was sentenced to 30 years in prison for it. What would Todd get for stealing their daughter for four months? Six years, seven? He was ill, judge, and I didn't see the full extent of it. I didn't insist on medical treatment. I reveled in having him all to myself. I knew she was safe, I knew he'd never hurt her. Maybe there was a part of me that said...take her. Maybe I needed punishment for my own transgressions. Tea leaned against the car and slid to the ground. She needed her daughter home. But she could not bring her because Sierra was too young to keep her father a secret. She'd tell the world about her beloved father who took her on a wild tour of icebergs, the tundra, and life.

Her cell phone buzzed in her bag and she saw it was Viki.

"A funny thing happened to me when I walked in the office after our talk."

Tea smiled, "Tell me."

"My assistant was impressed by a phone call a couple of weeks ago, a call she meant to tell me about earlier."

"Yeah..."

"A phone call from Iceland, a man wanting a paper. Our paper..."

Tea froze. Ice. Iceland.

"I know...I had the same reaction," Viki said. "It has to be him."

"You got an address."

"Yes."

"Oh my god, he wouldn't be so...brazen...would he? I mean...he'd have to know the anomaly of it? That someone would notice a Llanview paper being shipped to Iceland for god's sake?"

"I'd think so."

Tea stopped in her tracks at the sight of fancy Italian shoes. Walker. She hung up.

"I knew you'd come looking for me."

"You're such an ass, Manning. I was looking for Blair."

"Hunching down at the tires of my car hardly looks like you're 'looking for Blair.'"

"Well I am." Tea stood tall and looked up at Walker. He was perhaps an inch shorter than Todd. How is it that nobody noticed?

"I want you back, Tea Delgado."

Tea pushed him aside and sighed heavily, brushing dust off her clothes. Walked argued but she ignored him, leaving him behind. She drove away. Blair tomorrow, or the next day. She needed to see Viki...now.

The icy wave pounded the small fishing boat and Todd grabbed a wooden rod on the wall to keep him place. Slick coveralls and boots and gloves did little to keep the water off his skin. Fishing in this wintry weather meant unrelenting cold. The captain barked orders to the men to start turning the cranks to drag the net back in. The codfish caught in the net were being knocked off by the rocking of the net as it got dragged in, the fish being dropped into a holding tank. The men strained and grunted as they jointly turned the tight cranks. The boat was an old fashioned one and it was amazing that it still operated when larger, more efficient boats and trawlers were out there. But Erla Stephenson was a stubborn old woman who refused to bend to the times even at the cost of her profit margin. Another wave hit and Todd bit down as the cold was beginning to get to him. He'd been on the ship for three days and all he could think of was getting back to shore and hot coffee spiked with good old Jack Daniels.

His best friend, Dagur, called to him to keep turning the crank and Todd continued the hard work next to Peter, an old fisherman who had taught him the ways of the boat. Captain Adam held on as he walked towards the bridge to get them home as soon as the net was completely rolled in. This was the last haul. Another wave hit hard and Peter slipped to the ground, causing everyone on Todd's side of the net to stop turning the crank and get him up. They got back to the resistant turning. The fish popped off the net as the net jerked into the boat, one fish after the other, two, three fish at a time, dropping into the tank's cold water. Some were dead already, others not. Some swam frantically in the net, thinking they could get away.

The net was almost in. A few more feet and their work would be done. Another wave hit, only this time, Peter went out with it. The men yelled and scrambled and Todd flew to the side, looking out at sea. Peter waved his arms and went under again and again. A rope and floating device flew out and Peter tried hard to get to it. Nobody panicked. This had happened before. Many times. Sometimes the men made it and sometimes they didn't. Todd watched for Peter's orange coveralls, feeling helpless as his mentor fought for his life. The men tried again to throw the lifesaver out but Peter was becoming more disoriented by the water and less able to see the only help for him.

"_Gripa hringinn_!"

The voices of the men were getting desperate as they screamed for Peter to grab the ring, but Peter was disappearing for longer periods of time each time he went under. Without a thought, Todd grabbed another rope and leaped off the ship to the shocked yells of the men behind him. The water was freezing when he hit and he felt the weight of his clothes and the silence of the black water as his head went under. He knew Peter and he wouldn't last if he didn't get to his friend in the next minute or so. He saw his mentor dip below the water once more and he swam hard in his direction. The water was rough today and the waves unforgiving. He moved with the current and strained to fight the pull on his body. In that single minute he was at Peter's side and grabbed the man's hand as he sank again. The two just hung on to each other and the rope, as it got pulled by the men on the ship. Two more lasting minutes and they were being dragged onto the deck of the ship, shivering and disbelieving and relieved all at the same time. The younger hands helped them inside while the elder, more experienced workers finished dragging the fish-filled net back onto the ship, the cod flipping and flopping, their path hardly disturbed.

Todd and Peter shed their clothes deep inside the boat and got wrapped in dry blankets as they shook the cold that had gotten inside of their very bones. Peter eyed Todd across the galley and smiled, his missing bicuspids black spots on his weary face. Todd rolled his eyes and said in Icelandic, "I should have let you drown, you son-of-a-bitch."

Peter laughed and said, "I should have fucking taken you down with me."

They both laughed but stopped shortly as the Captain stormed in. He railed against Todd for jumping in. "Better one dead than both of you!"

Todd growled, "Better two alive than one dead."

"Your cockiness is going to get you killed. You've earned yourself cleaning duty as soon as you warm up. Hurry - the fish are waiting. As for you Peter, get warm and relax until we dock."

An hour later, the boat headed towards shore and Todd worked alongside the younger men, sorting the fish. It was dirty work and the men always walked away doubting they'd ever clean the stink of the fish off their bodies. When Todd sat, hours later, in the fishermen's favorite bar, he drank up the vodka and laughed with the others who had long ago dubbed him Thar, _sonur djofulsins_, "son of the devil." In fact, the devil had become his surname: Thar Djofull. The men thought it was funny, they thought it fit. He thought so too. In fact, it fit so well, his Banner newspapers had been addressed to that name care of the fishing boat company.

In Icelandic, his peers said, "The only reason you and Peter are alive is because the Devil still has work for you to do!" They drank to him and Peter, to the devil, and laughed hard until the wee hours of the night. When Todd hit his pillow, alone, drunk off his ass, the shadows of the room swayed and rocked and threatened to drag him down to the depths of a cold sea. He wondered as sleep overtook him, why is it that he did still live? What does the devil have planned for him yet? As he slid further and deeper into sleep, his mind wandered to the Llanview newspapers still on his desk and he imagined the letters and words and reminded himself to read them...soon...soon...

Viki typed in the address and the name of the company to whom they were supposed to mail the newspapers. Tea ran her fingers over the note from the receptionist. Thar Djofull. She shook her head and glanced up at Viki, "It has to be him. Thar...Todd."

"Djofull...Devil. I Googled it," Viki added.

"It's not a real last name. Nobody has 'devil' as a last name and THAT is Todd. That is what he does." Tea stared at the note. "What newspapers got sent to him?"

Turning in her chair to look at Tea, Viki said, "About ten different ones, about a week apart each."

"Anything that might be interesting to him?"

Nodding, her face drawn and dark, Viki said, "You."

"What?"

"The articles...you're representing Todd for raping Marty."

Tea chewed on her lip...that was crazy-making information. That was the kind of thing that made Todd lose his mind. TODD raping Marty again? Tea defending that? Jesus.

The two women eyed each other. Tea rubbed her arms, suddenly cold. "I have to go get him, don't I?"

Viki agreed, "If you still want him to...to take back his life, then, yes. You need to go there. You need to bring him home. He won't listen to me, but he might listen to you."

"But Walker...our plan to confuse him..."

"Tea, Walker isn't going to let go of the fraud until he faces Todd himself. Even if we succeed in making him as crazy as Todd is, the city of Llanview isn't going to believe any of this...until we are all in front of my brother, seeing his face, a face we know damned well. We all won't believe...until we see that devil of a soul right in front of us once again."

Within the hour, Tea had a ticket to Iceland, a car rented, and whole belly-full of fear.

"I'm coming to get you, Thar Djofull. I'm coming."

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

Iced Heart 4

Flight to Ísafjörður: .com/watch?v=1M1W_Jpy4TU

Iceland's northernmost shores were everything Tea imagined: beautiful, vast, a mix of green, browns, and icy white on the peaks of mountain ranges. She drove her small Volvo sedan along a quiet road, heading to the town of Bakkavik where Thar had written from, and to where the newspapers had been sent. The road stretched endlessly in front her, a twisting blur of hidden cold in the dead of winter. There was so much green still, green mixed with dead wintry earth, that one almost thought the temperature would be manageable. But outside...the cold bit at your insides, creeping into your bones, and the limited light...made you think of curling up in a warm bed until summer would heat the world again.

She pulled over to check her map, and sighed at the peacefulness of this part of the country. She'd caught up on her sleep in the capital of Reykjavik, and flew by propeller plane into a northern town called Ísafjörður. From there she drove north.

The towns were small, populations of 400, 200, 100. Each one she passed through boasted classic downtown business sections with the tail ends decorated with boxy, small houses and duplexes. As Tea snaked her way across the coast, she found it difficult to picture Todd's day-to-day life. She feared for him, thinking insane asylum, A Beautiful Mind, One Flew over the Cuckoo's nest. She wondered what Walker was doing back in Llanview. She shuddered with a recalled touch of his body against hers...a stinging regret...a longing for Sierra. Who was the crazy one?

One more turn and a sign told her that Bakkavik was a mere 10 kilometres away. And in a few breaths, a few short breaths, the town revealed itself. Population 243. Once again, a single main road, a row of bars, a single motel of sorts, two or three cafes, and two or three little shops. Ah, she noted, one dry cleaner. Further down the road she encountered the port, and saw a smattering of fishing companies and a slew of docked boats, all sizes ranging from the very large to the very small.

She glanced at the paper and her map of the address. Driving slowly, catching the eye of a few blondish, warmly dressed people, she slowed until she reached Kjalarvogi 3. The car stopped, the engine puttering.

In front of her was a single office. An old style, wood-siding fishing company. The door said simply, "Stigandi ehf". She opened the door and a bell rang, the kind of bell with a string. A young girl sat behind an old wooden desk, blond hair, a piercing in her lip. She smiled openly, saying, "_Góðan dag_!"

Tea smiled awkwardly and reached into her purse for her translation book. "_Ég tala ekki íslensku_."

The girl laughed and said in gently accented English, "Ahh...you don't speak Icelandic. How can I help you...in English?"

"Thank god...I speak Spanish but Icelandic is way out of my league."

The girl chuckled, and Tea decided to be clear and uninhibited. "I am looking for a man named..." She cleared her throat, suddenly afraid, but then she plowed forward. Whatever happens, happens.

"I'm looking for Thar Djofull?"

The girl didn't quite respond, keeping her eyes on Tea. Regarding her up and down. She smiled and furrowed her brows. "Thar...the devil's son."

"You know him?"

"I am Svana...and you are?"

"Jennifer Reyes, from New York...United States." Tea had thought about this for about 12 hours, going back and forth. She settled on a favorite name from way back when she was a little girl. Jennifer. How American and rich can you be? Tea sighed and smiled again, "You have any idea where I can find him?"

The girl crinkled her face and looked at her watch, shrugging her shoulders. "Thar doesn't work here like I do. He is on the boats...and...today is a day off? No work on the boats?"

"Oh...does he live...in town?"

Svana chuckled again, and by now Tea had no doubts this was Todd Manning in the flesh. Her patience began to wane. She crossed her arms across her chest, looking beyond the back windows on the slew of gently rocking fishing boats. What the hell is Todd doing on a fishing boat?

"He will probably be somewhere in town, tonight. We don't give out our workers' addresses. I can tell him your name? A telephone number? I can send a...a pigeon." She smirked but Tea couldn't tell if she was laughing at Tea or...Thar.

"No, it's not that big a place..." Tea said, her sentence fading as she turned on her heels and walked out into the cold air. She hugged her jacket to her...and then popped her head back into the office. "Where in town will he be? He and I have business..."

Svana looked up from her work with a knowing look on her face. "Thar will be with all the other men from the boats. Look for the loud noise, singing, a fight on the street." She shook her head, "Always trouble. But they do good work, and take many risks." Shrugging, "Men. You know how they can be."

"Thank you," Tea said softly and closed the door. Looking around, she saw that his choice of hangouts was small. A mere handful of bars or cafes. He wouldn't be hard to spot. And neither would she. She shivered and headed back onto the main drag, to the only hotel in town, "Bakkavik Hotel."

"Pretty straight-ahead, Iceland," she said, as her car sputtered to life.

He felt the slap on his back for the seventh time in a half hour and turned to Dagur with a deadness in his eyes his friend wasn't used to. Tonight, Todd sat at a far corner table next to the lit hearth, the flames big and tempting. Dagur slid onto the bench and said, "What is eating at you tonight?"

"You touch me again and I will kill you."

"Oh English. You really aren't in a mood to have fun." Dagur hunched low and said, "_Hvað er að þér_? What is the matter, my friend? Bjorn? She is pregnant? She gave you a...disease?"

"Oh Jesus Christ, no and no. Just...not in the mood for a party tonight." Todd knocked back another shot of vodka and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall.

"That is okay, Djofull. I'll send a bottle Brennevin to you. No more vodka. I will see you on the boat in the morning. Late start, eh?" He staggered away and Todd glanced around the hot room. It was quiet tonight. Tomorrow was another fishing day. Most of the men went to bed early tonight, starting their day at three in the morning. Erla Stephenson's boat though didn't go out until six - an old suspicion of hers. He figured he had a few more hours. It was only eight or so.

He reached across the bench and grabbed the stack of newspapers from Llanview. He brought them here to read. He figured a public place would keep him check. He was simply a man reading some newspapers. Thar...read newspapers like any other Icelandic fisherman. Clearing his throat he picked up the first one. Dorian Lord doing something hideous. God. He quickly glanced at each of the headlines of each newspaper, not even reading at the end, just looking at the main picture. Ten issues. He'd asked for a "couple."

The last one gave him a flash of Marty Saybrooke.

He slammed the papers back down on the table, a heaving in his belly. He downed another shot. He didn't even read the headline itself. The picture was enough. Her hair the same, her face...the same. Leaning back again, the room swam. He felt the rocking of the boat, the dizzying heat of the fire. Five more minutes and he was going to vomit his brains out.

What the fuck was that woman doing in Llanview again?

Strange how his memories of her rape still lived inside of him. It didn't take much and he'd be in the frat house room again, the shutters banging against the window, her body under his...the vision of the other two following in his footsteps. So real, so recent, so far away. Dagur's voice broke his reverie, happy, light, loud joking. Todd watched his friend laugh so heartily that Todd wanted to weep. He could not feel that.

The papers blurred in front of him. It was a newspaper that had broken him before. Mere headlines. Mere words. Drove him out of town with his baby girl in tow. He'd needed her so badly - she needed to guide him out of madness. Who would he steal this time?

He breathed deeply and took the bottom paper out again.

His eyes moved from her picture to the heading.

And read that "Manning Rapes Again, Delgado Defends Again."

He read a few lines...gathered that Delgado was with Walker, as in_ lover_...he got up at that. And stood with his skin on fire, shaking with cold, sweat running down his back. Dagur called out but he couldn't make sense of the words. He stared at the newspapers, the letters and pictures swimming, packed them into their envelope and walked outside. He turned a corner, turned at the corner of the building, and walked into a snow-drift alley and threw up hard in the patch of snow. When he was through, he walked further down the alley until he collapsed in the dark, awake, spent. Lying on his back, envelope in his grip, he watched the stars drifting ever-slowly above.

"What on God's green earth are you doing, Tea?"

Tea drifted through the two or three bars in the small town. She smiled and nodded at the curious onlookers. She had no idea just how foreign she appeared. Her dress was nothing special: jeans, boots, a white down jacket. Her hair was pulled back into a loose pony-tail. And yet...she drew stares. She sat alone, always in a corner booth, and watched the patrons, listened to a mix of German, Russian, Icelandic and English.

No Todd...

She chose not to ask for him. Choosing instead to spy on him. Choosing to enter his world slowly, quietly. If that was possible.

There was one last bar to visit before calling it a night. She gathered her coat and purse, dragged herself out of the booth. She'd keep coming back. He was bound to show up. As she began to make her way out, she was stopped cold by the sight of Thar himself, coming through the door with a group of three other hearty-looking men. She slunk right back into the booth, her breath caught in her throat. Her stomach in knots.

One of the men slammed his fist on the bar counter, demanding drinks. The other two had their arms around Todd, who looked thoroughly pissed off. Tea was rather shocked to hear him finally speak, saying, "_Ja, ja...ég er í sjöunda himni_." The men laughed, the sarcasm in their chortles obvious, and he pulled out of their hold of him, sauntering to the bar and knocking back a short glass of some liquor. He threw his hands out and nodded, clearly having proven himself.

The men cheered and Todd glared at all of them, saying some other phrase unknown to Tea, "_Farðu til fjandanns!" _The laughter grew louder and then they all drank more, the bartender shaking her head and threatening them with something which did nothing except to fire them up even more. Todd though, he smiled only slightly, only going along with the program. They began all talking and Todd, he listened and drank. He stared into his glass and laughed quietly with his friends.

Tea was transfixed. He was beautiful as always. His beard was full, his hair below his shoulders. His eyes, warm with booze, his lips...and he was strong. He'd built up muscle since she'd last seen him. This was not the broken man she remembered. He positively beamed with simmering life. My god...

But he had stolen her child, abandoned them. And here he was, enjoying his days and nights...

She bit down on her teeth. Bit down hard, her jaw flexing. Her sympathies flying out the window. An hour later and these men were beyond toasted. Tea had sunk deep into her coat, eying the men, eying Todd at the bar. By now, he was loose...smiling a bit more, laughing more freely. He was speaking to one of the men at some point, arguing some random point. Tea could tell it was mindless chatter. For as long as she'd known Todd, he never CHATTERED. Thar did, however. It was clear, Thar had a whole brilliant personality.

The bad news was that he had spotted her.

However, he didn't recognize her - he could not place her. With her hair pulled back, with a pair of mock clear eyeglasses, with her being so far away from Llanview, and with all that vodka or whatever in his blood, there was no way he knew who he was looking at.

Tea looked away and continued to study her coffee. She poured more into her cup from such a gorgous coffee decanter. Amazing the beauty of the decanter. She watched the front door, watching to see when he'd leave. When she looked at the group once more, Todd had fixed his gaze upon her again. And after he said some words, the men all looked at her.

_God damnit..._

With some cheers and hollering, Todd bowed deeply to the men and headed to her table.

Tea panicked. No, no, no...too fast...no...

So under the influence, he murmured, "_Fyrirgefðu_." Followed by probably, most likely, a horrible pick up line as the men at the bar burst out laughing after he said it. He turned to them and shrugged and then collapsed in the chair next to her.

She dragged out her translation guide, having no idea what he'd said. She said again...that she didn't speak Icelandic.

"Only English."

"You speak English! I am sorry...I am very drunk...these 'friends' of mine have asked me to invite you to his...to his..." He pointed in several directions. "To his house. You don't speak Icelandic I think you said. Yes?"

"Yes...only English."

"Yeah, yeah...you said that. And American English...where you from?"

He looked at her and she looked away...and he said, "You look familiar. Maybe on television?" He could barely keep her gaze, the alcohol had taken over so much. Tea wanted to touch his face, to keep him on her. She wanted to know more. His friends ambled to the table and they all piled into the booth. The chatter was loud and they only spoke in Icelandic. Todd tried to translate but it was hard and noisy...

She was trapped.

Finally, she decided to break free...but Todd grabbed her hand.

"Come with me. Come home with me. I will introduce you to...Iceland." He translated what he said and all the men laughed out loud. He grinned and laughed and bent his head and Tea wanted to slap the fuckin' shit out of him. The other man fought over who was going to be Tea's tour guide. She finally pulled away and pushed open the doors and she leaned against the outside wall.

My god...he was here...and living this life...another life...another name...another man's life...

She walked slowly down the block, heading to her hotel room. She thought maybe she would leave him here. Leave him to his life. To his comforts. Perhaps he did not want to reclaim anything. The night was beautiful and cold and icy. The mountains loomed dark in the distance...the cold bit at her. She felt tears begin to inch up. Perhaps she needed to let him go.

"I am sorry for my friends, beautiful woman."

She turned slightly at Todd's voice. His English had changed...it reflected a different language in his head, an accomodation of non-English speakers. She slowed but did not stop. She waved her hand...not a big deal. Go away, she hoped to say. He kept his pace up.

"I am tired...go away," she finally said.

Slurring his words, he said, "Please just time...just spend a small time with me. I like hearing English."

Her eyes stung now...he touched her shoulder, and she stopped at last. He eased behind her and she knew it was wrong. She knew it. but he felt good...his smell, his voice. He pressed into her and held her hands in front of her. Leaning her head back into him, he kissed her neck, whispering, "My room is warm...come..."

"You don't know me..."

"You're American...you're beautiful...you're soft...this feels good, right? You're...so familiar..."

"God...who are you?"

"I'm nobody...just a fisherman, in a strange and cold country..."

He pushed her against the wall, turning her to face him, and he buried his cold face into her neck, suckling at her, moving to her mouth. His beard rubbed her skin, the hair softer than many. He dipped down and pressed against her clothes, her body. He slipped his hand up underneath her coat, caressing her back. Tea melted into him, hating the deception, not understanding it herself. Was she so needy, so desperate? Did you realize what he would do, say...if he knew?

Fast, she thought...let's do this fast...because "no" is becoming more and more impossible to say...

Her leg rubbed his, and it inflamed him, sending a palpable shuddering throughout his body. She grabbed hold of his shoulders and kissed him square on the mouth, their tongues touching and battling for space...she grabbed his ass. At that motion, he took it as a yes and pressed on.

She groaned because she could feel his passion...which was surprising considering how very drunk he was. Which fired up a jealous streak because if he was doing this with her, he'd done it before with others. She pulled back to look at him, at his wet lips, at his eyes that did not look at hers. She held his face in her hands.

He panted now, "Come home...come to my place...come pretty girl..._come." _Words followed now in Icelandic, words breathed and huffed as he moved her against him. He knew damn well what he was doing, moving her in a way meant to excite her...and then he stopped and smiled at her...

"Come with me."

She was putty now, weak now...

He pulled her by the hand and he walked in front of her...tripping but getting quickly in control. In moments he shoved a door open and slammed it closed.

The room was dark and he quickly got on with it. Her clothes he took off one piece at a time, pushing her back on the bed. He took off his own clothes quickly, his coat, his shirt, her bra, their boots and socks, her pants, his pants...he moved slowly again, until she screamed with agonized pleasure. She pushed him onto his back and climbed on him. He nodded, his eyes closed, weak with indulgence.

"What is your name," she asked.

"Thar...call me that."

"Thar..."

He didn't smile, but instead grew serious, his head rocking back as Tea began making love to him. He breathed words in this other language, picking up the pace towards the end and god, god, Tea knew this lovemaking, knew the orgasmic thrill of his body and his urgency.

That is when she heard him murmur her name...

"Tea...I love you..." Plain as day, in plain English.

Tea held him as he fell to her side, his hand on her cheek, his mouth against her shoulder, "Tea...Tea..."

Tea waited until his breathing evened with the deep alcoholic slumber before slipping out of the bed. She stood across the room, watching him. Horrified at herself, at this waiting game. She knew she had to stay. She sat on a sofa seat in the corner of the room. She drew in her legs, covering herself with her coat.

He would wake to find Tea Delgado in his room.

_To be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5

**Iced Heart 5**

The pain began in his belly, impaling him through to his back, up his spine, and exploding in the front of his head, waking him from his drunken slumber. He drank far too much of that fucking Brennivín, sometimes known as Icelandic moonshine. Usually taken with a special type of cured shark, the shit was harsh. And despite his abs of steel, it never worked well for him. Dagur and his buddies had literally tripped over Todd in the alley and boy they had a laugh at his sprawled self. He didn't remember what happened to the newspapers - the envelope had been in his hand and then? Tried to recreate the night. He got yanked up off the ground, went along with them, burying his misery over Walker raping Marty and...his wife, his beloved Tea running to the bastard's side to defend his ass. Where were those god damned papers?

God, TEA.

Groaning loudly, his hands over his face, keeping the light of the morning out, he sat up. But the moment he did so, his stomach flipped, bursting to life. He threw off the covers and hopped, tripped and slipped into the bathroom, puking like a frat boy in the toilet. Barely making it. Flushing after what he thought was the last bit, he sat on the floor, holding his head, his elbows on the seat. He was naked as the day he was born, and freezing his ass off.

"Motherfucker moonshit."

Squinting, he looked around in the dusky morning...and realized he'd overslept. Missed the boat departure.

"Oh fuck me now." He'd be getting so much crap from the men over this.

He grabbed the seat as more Brennivín made its way out of his body, hot and singeing his throat. When he was pretty sure he was a dry vessel, he stood wobbly on his feet, brushing his teeth. Stared at his pathetic reflection in the mirror a moment or two. He staggered back to his bed...

But then he realized he was most definitely not alone. That's right...god...some Hungarian woman who looked like Tea. Hungarian? No, she'd been _hungry._ God, they'd eaten each other up. He could still smell her on him. Canadian? English...oh wait...English...as in American...naaahhh...Icelandic as always. They were always..._Icelandic_.

For any red-blooded American male, his life was ideal. For him, it was a nightmare. A repeating, non-stop, blacked-out, groundhog nightmare. He had no control. It was instinctive, robotic: ALWAYS when he was drunk off his ass, he'd chase down some nameless, faceless woman who reminded him of Tea whether it was in her appearance (dark hair only - rare in the Icelandic population but it did happen), or if she was a tough, hold-your-own, in-your-face woman.

If he threw some crap at her in the bar and she came back with curses or snappy comebacks, his cock stood up at fucking attention. And without his ever remembering the details, seemingly without his say-so, his betraying body always tried to take her home. And the women, they always went with him.

God damn it, he didn't want to look at her. He breathed to calm the nausea. Finally, as it passed...he snuck a peak.

From under the heavy down comforter he looked at the one chair in the room, a ratty, cushioned wing-backed chair shoved in the corner. There, a woman slept, her body covered in a fluffy white coat (the only thing on her; he knew that because her bare leg peeked out from under the coat, long and sleek and inviting; he knew it because he spotted her clothes strewn about the room), dark hair over her face, her small body tightened up in an attempt to stay warm...lying still as a dead bird. How she'd not been disturbed at his retching, he'd never know.

Then...maybe she was faking it.

He yanked the sheet off the bed and wrapped himself in it, tiptoeing over to her. He touched her shoulder and felt her flinch. She still didn't move.

In harsh Icelandic, he grumbled, "Come on, party's over. You're awake. Get the fuck out."

Oh yes...Thar had disappeared in the night...and Todd was back. She didn't move.

English? "Miss, I need you to go. Get the fuck out."

Tea Delgado moved her hair and looked directly at him.

"Good _morgen_, lover boy. I'm not going anywhere."

Strange, how shock rooted him where he stood. On the boat, he moved, man, he moved at the sudden shifts in danger, at the furious roar of the ocean.

But here...here he stood staring at a face. His brows furrowed as he took in her features, as his mind darkened, his heart sinking into itself. He watched her, studied her, and looked away. Then he turned and went back to bed. Climbed back under the covers. Tea waited. He laid back and smacked himself on the head with the palms of his hand, hard. He kept his hands on his eyes, growled, cursed in Icelandic.

"It's 'góðan daginn.' Do you understand? _Góðan daginn, góðan daginn, góðan daginn_! THAT means good morning! But I really want you to say _bless, bless, _which means goodbye. So...please...goodbye. _BLESS. _You need to leave...please...please...leave. Take that face, and that body, and that voice, and that goddamn scent that makes me crazy...and fucking leave."

"I can't do that, Todd. Or Thar, or whoever the hell you think you are."

He rolled over and faced her, his face a mask of pain, hers the mirror image.

"Jesus, what the fuck...," he whispered. He crawled out of bed, leaving the linens behind him, shivering again now, less from cold and more from stress. Went to his knees, and stared up at her. "You real, Tea? You're really here?"

"Yes, it's me."

He studied her face, his eyes drifting over her body, back up to her lips. "Prove it."

She twisted her mouth in utter loathing... "Prove it? PROVE it?"

"You look like her..." He bent and sniffed at her leg, moving up her thigh until she kicked at him. He licked his lips. "You smell like her...you sound like her...but...I think I'm dreaming. I'm still drunk, yeah? You cannot possibly be here. I would have known it last night, yesterday. I would have _felt_ it." His voice grew ragged. "Prove it."

She stilled for a moment and contemplated him. She took in those horrific scars that Mitch had given him, the ones running down his chest and neck, the ones that twisted around his torso to his back. She caught the evidence of surgery to correct the broken bones the goons had given him. She looked into his disbelieving eyes, gazing at the sinewy muscles he'd attained in the past two years. She looked at his beard, knowing it covered up new scars from Mitch, and regarded his nose that had been broken and never healed right. His mouth parted in a plea to her...and she remembered the day he'd walked out. Broken, mad with pain. And here he was...so...very...alive and well.

"Prove it..." she repeated, her voice soft and lingering.

"It cannot be you."

"You took our daughter, our small Sierra, our precious lamb...you took her into the ice to die with _you_, you thoughtless, psychotic, fucked-up son-of-a-bitch." With that, she reached back and slapped him so hard that spit and blood flew from his mouth and he toppled from his perch on his knees and toes, finally lying on his side, panting and tasting the bitter blood in his mouth. A laugh flew out him, a strange, distant...laugh.

She got to her feet and he looked up at her, swearing she had grown two feet in their time apart.

"You took her for four MONTHS! Dropped her like a god damn package on an Alaskan airplane, like an orphan, a street urchin...tangles in her hair, shoes too small for her, a sunburn on her little arms, and now...now you're here...what...fucking strangers in the street, playing fisherman, partying like a teenager, calling those women MY NAME. MY NAME you bastard! MY name...MY NAME!"

With that she got to her knees and pounded him with her fists, pounded him with every bit of strength in her until she couldn't anymore. He protected himself the best he could but there was nothing he could do to protect her from what he'd already done. Her tears came at last and she screamed at him, screamed until someone was knocking hard at his door.

Calling out, he said everything was okay, that he was all right, assuring them, "_Allt í lagi! Allt í lagi!_"

He let her run out of steam...and then he took her batting fists and held them in his hands and grabbed her to him, whispering, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry...I am so so sorry."

She quieted at last and moved away from him, a few feet. As far as she could in that small room, grabbing her coat on the way. Sat brooding against the wood-paneled wall, the white wool a fortress's wall. Todd watched her a while. The clock ticked and the heater kicked on...his little refrigerator kicked on too. He tasted more blood and pressed his hand against the serious cut on his lip.

He finally said, "Okay...yeah...you're Delgado in the flesh." He opened his mouth and rubbed his sore cheek. He rubbed the blood on the sheet. His landlord would have a field day with that one. His eyes found her burning ones and he sighed, staring at the floor once again, unable to keep up the connection. "Nope, not a hallucination at all."

"Geez...ya' think?" she said, her voice still laden with such deep hurt and disgust. She realized for the first time, that she hadn't even begun to express her pain, her fury, at his desertion of her with Sierra. For so long, she'd put it off, she buried it for her daughter's sake, for HIS sake. My god, she'd been in as much a fog as he'd been in.

"I guess it's not the right time," he ventured, "to ask how it is that you can sleep with Walker, and defend him from raping...Marty SAYBROOKE?"

She looked out the small window, and heard a car drive by. Shaking her head, she cringed inside.

"Please...not the right time."

"So...I'll just swallow that down..."

"NOT the right time!"

"Not until-"

"Swallow it, bury it, shove it up your child-stealing, Icelandic-phony, stranger-fucking ass..."

He fought a wave of irrational jealous revulsion, and reached to the bed, dragging the sheet back around him. He stepped to the stove but saw that his landlord was outside the door, his shadow darkening the window. He tightened the sheet around his waist tighter and opened the door.

The man nearly fell for trying to listen so hard. In Icelandic, he apologized, "I just wanted to make sure that you were okay. I hate to lose tenants...under...violent circumstances. Are you okay?" He strained to look past Todd, but glanced back at him, touching his own mouth to show that he noticed the cut.

Todd smiled, shrugging, "An old girlfriend took...well...she objected to my...umm...drinking too much and visiting too many other girlfriends..." He chuckled lightly. "There...she's there..." He turned inside and said in English, "Tea, tell the man you're okay."

"I am okay," she said softly.

"You don't need the police," the landlord asked to both of them?

"Do you need the police, Tea, the _lögregluna?_"

She said, "No, no _lögregluna_. Thank you. Sorry for the noise."

Todd translated. The landlord accepted it and made to move on. But before he left, he handed Todd the manila envelope with his newspapers inside.

"Sorry," the landlord said, "This was on your step."

The door shut and Todd tossed the envelope on the counter. He shook his head and patted the envelope. He worked on getting the hot water boiling for instant coffee. Today was a coffee day, yeah...definitely a coffee day.

An hour later, they were both dressed and attempting to talk but it went nowhere. There was too much to say, and no good way to say any of it. They were both wrong, right, hopeless in being able to bridge their differences.

The room felt so small, so closed off from possibility. Todd felt ridiculous, out of control. Yesterday his chosen solution of being another person made sense; this morning, in front of Tea, it seemed absurd. He chuckled to himself, the bitterness in his mouth grinding the laugh to a cough.

"Something funny," Tea asked, from her chair in the room. He sat on the bed, his back against the wall.

"Not really," he said, not turning to look at her. He kept smoothing the bed sheets, his gaze firmly on the wrinkles, on the uneven lumps. "How is Sierra? Tell me about her."

"She is beautiful and strong and smart as a whip and even though she is nearly eight, she is so much older in her mind, in the way she talks, and feels."

"Does she remember..." He felt Tea watching him. Still, he smoothed and worked the sheets. An endless job, really.

"Yes. She remembers your journey to the ice. She remembers details most kids would have forgotten at such a young age, like the boysenberry syrup you loved, and the furry boots you got for her that she lost somewhere, and the glaciers, and the polar bears, and...the cold. She remembers the fires in the fireplaces and your clunky shoes. She remembers your growing quietness. She says, dad doesn't talk anymore. He stopped talking. She says she spoke for you. And she misses you. She asks questions about you. She doesn't understand where you went. At times, she thinks perhaps you're dead."

Emotion bubbled up in his chest and he fought the pain that threatened to pour out of him. He stood up from the bed, clearing his throat. He searched madly his chest of drawers until he found his cigarettes. Tearing open the pack, he lit up, his hand shaking something fierce. He had broken the habit recently but needed something and it was way too early to drink vodka. He breathed in the unfiltered smoke, coughing a little. He stood with his back to Tea, leaning on the dresser...the cigarette smoldering in between his fingers.

"You did this, Todd. You were wounded, sick, I get that. But...finding you here this way...well...my sympathies have dried up."

"I don't expect anything."

"I'm not giving it."

He turned at last, the cigarette in his mouth. He finished it and put it out on a dish behind him.

"So what now, Tea? What do you want to do? Shoot me? Stab me? A divorce? Get me to sign papers to cut off parental rights? What?"

"You want any of that?"

He poured more coffee into his mug and drank it down. Eyeing her, he said in a gentle voice, "Do you know Iceland has volcanoes? Not very icy, huh? I was terrible at geography."

"It's cold enough."

"I like Thar. He's a funny guy. All these scars? They come from being a risk-taker, cliff diving in Mexico, shooting lions in Africa, mining for diamonds in South Africa, swimming with sharks...not because he was nearly killed by a few goons, not from being packed away in a tomb." He smiled, "Thar is a free guy. He works hard for days on end and plays hard on his days off. He doesn't have nightmares because he's too fucking drunk or passed out. Thar is a bastard to women...but that's because he's spoiled and happy and doesn't want to lose out on his..._awesome_...lifestyle." He said the last words ironically, bitterly.

"Well it's over. Thar is officially dead. Unless...you don't want him to be."

A shocked expression colored his features. "Dead? NO...I want Thar alive. I fucking hate Todd Manning. Walker can have him..." He laughed sharply and then his voice dropped into a near-feral growl. "Long live Todd fucking Manning." He tore out another cigarette and turned to the kitchen. Slammed open and shut a cupboard and poured himself some vodka. He couldn't control his shaking hand, the noise in his head. He drank back two shots one right after another.

"And what about Todd's children?"

"They don't need him."

"So you want Todd _fucking _Manning raising Sierra? A REAL rapist? The man who raped Marty by kidnapping her and taking advantage of amnesia. You want that scum raising your children, all your children."

Todd was struck by her words and he snorted. "What the fuck are you talking about? Walker just reinvigorated the TRUTH. Tea...I am a rapist. You had a rapist raising Sierra. Jesus...at least Marty thought she was sleeping with someone she loved even if it didn't last. I...TODD...me...I raped her by holding her down. I raped her, the good old-fashioned way. Trust me...my children, his children, they all drew the short stick. Walker is a way better choice. Thar doesn't have kids. What he does...doesn't matter." He drank another shot and stuck another cigarette in his mouth.

"Wow. You really did get better here, didn't you?"

"Sierra already thinks I'm dead. Let her live with that."

Tea got up and took down another shot glass. She raised it to Todd and he poured it. She drank it back, her face twisting with its cutting taste. She slammed the little glass down.

"_Brava_," Todd said softly, clapping his hands in mock emphasis.

Tea crossed her arms across her chest. "Walker nearly killed Starr and her baby."

Todd narrowed his eyes and puffed on the cigarette. The smoke coming from his nose and mouth, along with his expression, made Tea think of a dragon.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"Walker pushed your pregnant daughter down a flight of stairs. Sure it was an accident, but...he was trying to keep her away from Cole, Marty's son...who got her pregnant in the first place."

"Jesus...where the hell was Blair? She got pregnant?" He back-pedaled..., "By COLE? Marty's son?"

"Another story for another day..."

"And...where the fuck was Blair? Oh! I guess once a whore, always a whore, including her children! Christ!" He turned back to the counter. Poured himself another shot.

"Starr is a woman, Todd; she made her own decision to have sex, and then to keep her baby." Tea almost wanted to laugh at his indignation. Thar wouldn't care...but Todd most certainly did. Could it be this easy? Would he come back...this easily? "Still think you don't matter? They don't need you?"

"Is Cole still alive?"

"Yes...they're living together. They've been through a lot; Walker beat the boy to within an inch of his life when he found Cole and Starr in bed together. Guilt has silenced Walker on this point of contention."

He ran a hand through his hair. Came to some understanding in his head. Then said, "It's a good thing I'm not there. Cole would be dead. If I go there, I might still have to kill him."

"You won't do that."

He put his cigarette out and walked close to Tea. She felt his heat as he stared down at her with his cool hazel eyes. She maintained an open expression on her face, open yet challenging. He said in a soft, gentle tone, "Tea...had it been me...had I found Cole in Starr's bed, or Starr in Cole's bed...I would have killed him. Thank god for Walker."

Tea reached for his arm and he yanked it away, returning to his place in the kitchen. He was calm and deadly serious, like slow-moving lava. "Had I pushed my own daughter down a flight of stairs, she'd have been broken beyond repair."

"I don't believe that."

"Then you don't know me."

"And if you did that, you'd have killed yourself."

"Maybe."

"No maybes. Walker didn't even break a sweat. He nearly caused Starr to lose her baby, he caused her injuries, and he...didn't...even...break...a sweat."

"You saw this?"

"Viki told me."

"Viki..."

This was getting to him. Tea could feel it. He stood now at his small window, then stepped to the side and opened the door. He walked outside in the Iceland daytime and raised his shut eyes to the sun that would only be out for a short while. It was cold and Tea grabbed her coat. She walked outside and stood next to him.

"Do you still believe Walker is better for them than you?"

"Did you sleep with him?"

It was her turn on the hot seat. She looked at him squarely in the eyes, hard-set eyes that bore right through her. "Yes. I was angry at you. I wanted to know him. I wanted to find his weakness."

Todd raised his upper lip in sheer hate, a deep sound coming from the base of his throat.

"You have no say," she said, smoothing his cheek with the back of her knuckles. With her other hand she smoothed his beard and ran down his tight neck. "You left us. And you have sex with strangers. For god's sake...you and I...last night-"

"You're defending him...," he said, his voice deep and ragged, skipping over his reality like one skipped loose stones in a river. "Why?"

She stepped back and shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe I saw Walker as you and wanted to rescue...you. Or maybe...I just like a challenge. Or maybe I wanted you to read the story in a newspaper...and that you'd come raging back to life."

"A newspaper broke me, woman."

"I know." She ran her hands down his arms, and back up to his shoulders, her head up. "You're not broken anymore, Todd. You're strong, you have fire in your heart, you're alive like so few others are. You need to come home. It's time to come home."

He turned away from her, shaking his head. And just at that moment, a truck screeched to a halt in front of the building, those men from the bar pouring out and running to Todd, speaking frantically in that old language that Tea read had not changed for centuries. There was a special commission that was charged with creating new words that could not have existed way back when. Tea only followed the expressions on the men's faces, the urgency, the panic.

"What happened?" Tea plead.

Todd turned to her, "I'm sorry...I have to go...I'll be back...the boat...it capsized...I have to go." He ran into the room, rattling off words to the men, questions that got short answers, and grabbed his coat. He stopped a moment and held her arm, love on his features, a look he could not control, a look that she'd forgotten.

"I'm sorry for what happened...," he said. In Icelandic he then said to her, "_Ég elska þig._" The men pulled at him and he ran with them, Tea calling out, "What did you say?"

He was shaking his head, too far to yell...and the men squeezed with him into the front seat of the truck. It roared and swerved into the street, disappearing down the road.

The sky crackled with energy and Tea shivered, stunned at Todd's sudden disappearance. The landlord sauntered next to her and said in broken English, "I know what he say."

She turned, surprised at his coming up on her with such stealth. "You heard him? And you can translate? Is he going to be okay? Are they all going to be okay?"

"Thar say, he love you. _Ég elska þig..._I love you." He smiled proudly, nodding his bald head and patting her arm. "I love you! He say."

Tea shook her head again, "He loves me. Jesus. But...are they going to be okay? He said the boat...capsized. Is he going out there?"

The sky cracked again and the landlord pointed toward the water in the distance, "Bad day. Bad...day. Not okay."

Tea looked into the distance and from where she stood, the ocean crashed noisily. She had to go...she had to follow him. Like hell that damn water was going to keep him. Like fucking hell.


	6. Chapter 6

Iced Heart – Chapter 6

As soon as the truck hit the road, Todd's friends burst into laughter. Not a soft chuckling, but the kind that hurts. "You are still so drunk, my friend!" Dagur panted, in between roars of laughter. The other two men joined in, Frey and Hinrik.

In plain English, Todd growled, "What the fuck?"

"Your face... your face...you were so concerned!" More raucous laughter ensued.

Dagur patted Todd's shoulder, trying to soothe the burning fury on his face. "Did it even occur to you that if the boat capsized...that we would not be here to pick you up? We'd be capsized too."

Todd shook his head and hunched down into the seat, his Icelandic returning to his tongue, "Fuck all of you. You pulled me away from something important."

"What...getting murdered by that woman?" Dagur explained. "Your landlord called me in a panic."

"You...he called you. Shit. Thank god she really wasn't murdering me. How about the police being called? You people are fucked in the head. And...why aren't you on the boat anyway?"

Hinrik, an older cowboy of a fisherman chimed in, "Too rocky a morning. The boat would have flipped."

The car rolled into the fishing company's headquarters. The men filed out of the truck, Todd grumbling, "Take me back to my place."

"Hell no. You need to do some work..." Dagur said, "You need to breathe Iceland air, to clear your mind and body of that woman."

Todd eyed the three men as they walked towards the front door, "That woman you speak of...is my wife."

Everyone stopped in their tracks, their mouths collectively falling open, their eyes bugging. Then the laughter started, "No wonder, Thar! No wonder she was murdering you! Ohhh shit!"

The office smelled like fish and old wood, ragged couches in the corner of the room as old as time. The men plopped down on them, spent from enjoying the surprising drama of their normally unchained friend, Thar.

Dagur's voice, thick with anticipation, gave Todd a shiver as he asked for the whole story. Todd...Thar... filled them in with only the barest of details. "We separated a while ago, and she tracked me down. She was a little upset with my...choice of personal and geographic conduct."

"No shit, my friend. She know about your...conquests on a weekly basis?"

"She figured out my pattern."

Frey, the youngest man on the boat, barely eighteen, was clearly dying for more dirt, "How did she learn your pattern...you were very...behaved last night."

The other men laughed and Thar...he complied, in character...because Thar did this sort of thing. Thar had uncomplicated relationships. Thar bedded women and had a wife who didn't appreciate it. Todd bit down hard, then smiled a crooked smile and said, "I didn't recognize her due to the Brennivin...I took her to my room and made sweet love to her...she knew I did not recognize her."

The men laughed hard at Thar's gall and Dagur commented, "You mean you fucked the shit out of her and then passed out before you could return the favor, eh, Thar?"

Thar laughed along with the others, but Todd cringed in deep shame. This wasn't some northern whore, this was his angel they were talking about...this was...Tea. Even Thar had his limits.

"Hey, this is my wife. She deserves a little respect from you pigs."

The men dried their eyes and hesitated a moment before laughing more.

"You mean she deserves to come, too! Maybe we can help!"

Thar chuckled alongside them, shaking his head. The view outside was beautiful, the waves smashing against the dock, the boats being rocked, helpless to the strength of the water. He could barely hear the continued jokes of the men, their humor and joy light and free. Their lives really were uncomplicated. "I do need to get back to her, gentlemen pigs. Who will drive me back? I'm not working today."

The reality was, as he looked at these men, that he may never see them again. He was surprisingly sad...and unquestionably torn about it. He had meant what he said...he loved being Thar. He hated Todd Manning with the heat of a thousand suns. Tea nearly had him, though, especially at the story of Starr being hurt by Walker and Cole, especially at the idea of Sierra being raised by Walker. But sitting here now, he coveted the simplicity Iceland offered. He yearned for the straightforward nature of Icelandic fishing on the worker's side of things. He stayed far away from administration, from the ownership elements. THAT was complicated. But this...this was fucking bliss.

He lost himself in Thar, getting a kind of release that he had never felt in his entire life. This release had never meant more since Mitch had gotten hold of him. Peter's damage of him had been cake-walk.

At that, the room closed in on him hard and he had to get out. "Never mind," he said softly. "I'll walk." Despite the protests, Todd smashed out into the cold air. Breathing deeply and walking fast down the road, running now, his chest tightened and darkness exploded into his head. The ice...the ice...he felt the siren's song, felt her cold wet hands on his legs, on his thighs, dragging at him, pulling at him. Lie down, she sang, lie down with me...give yourself that full peace, permanent peace, my love. Never will life hurt you again.

He walked off the main road and took an access path to the water. He breathed hard, his soul too real now, out now on the surface, Thar weak, slinking down and away from his grasp. What triggered this? Jesus. Todd's wounds splashed blood now, like the ocean's wild waves, open for the world to see and he could not let that happen. He could not show this...he could not give in to this. Memories of the tomb bit at him, the torture imposed on him by Mitch and his goons. The torture from before, from farther back. He lost touch now and quieted. His voice gone.

But the screams he heard in his head were loud, deafening, an endless straining of his vocal cords.

He stood at the edge of the water, watching the grey distance, feeling the cold on his cheeks. He dropped his coat to the ground, feeling the ice now on his face, his body. He stripped his clothes off and felt more of that cold. The torture was real again...he stood still and silent and in awe of its power, watching the men cut into his body with their blades, watching blow after blow against his bones. He heard the cracking of his body and mind, heard the soft tearing of flesh and muscle. The bloody torture quieted him. His mouth parted and his eyes glazed over with shock. He could not scream or breathe or think.

The water called to him and he knew this was it. Thank god, thank god...the pain would end.

Night had long fallen on the small town and the men could not account for Todd's whereabouts. They were light-hearted about it because Thar most likely was bedding some whore just to spite his nagging wife, but Tea was paralyzed with fear because she knew Thar did not exist in reality. She drove the streets, slowly and deliberately. She searched the port and the bit of coast she could access. There were far too many places to disappear here on Iceland's rocky shores. She then walked through the pubs. His friends had assured her that he was fine, but she knew better. She would give him until morning. Then she knew...she'd have to report him missing. Again.

Tea landed back at his apartment. She settled into chair in his room. Sat in the room with only one light on. Waiting, praying, trying to rise above her worries.

Near eleven that night, Todd returned. Tea jumped to her feet and ran to the door. He stopped at the sight of her and she knew. The trauma had returned, she thought, at the sight of his glazed eyes. God no.

She reached to him and his skin was icy, the cold of it coming right through his shirt. "God, where were you?" He shook his head slightly and backed up at her touch. "Where's your coat, Todd? Jesus you're freezing." She pulled him inside and closed the door. She grabbed a blanket off the bed and wrapped it around him and he sat on his bed, walking easily there, like a child being led to bed.

Tea hit the stove and lit the burner to get hot water going for tea, her hands shaking with fear. He wasn't talking, he was staring straight ahead, that glazed look...god, god...not again. She ran to the closet for another blanket and wrapped it around him.

"I'll fill the tub..." And as she began to pull away, he grabbed her wrist and growled, "Stop."

Her whole insides twisted and tears flowed out of her, "I thought...I thought..."

"I'm fine, Tea. I'm just fucking cold, and...feeling like such an asshole." She wrapped her arms around him, and he held onto her tight, so tight she could barely breathe. He loosened his grip on her at last and pulled back to look at her.

"You should know, you should...understand...they did horrible things to me, Tea. I don't know why. For Mitch's enjoyment? What they did went beyond revenge. It was...torture."

He had never spoken of this to her other than in general terms. She could only surmise details based on the scars. He never told her specifics. She listened and said nothing.

"They strung me up...with chains..." He laughed. "Like in a movie. Sometimes I thought I was in a movie. Hanging there for days it seemed...that made the marks on my wrists. They whipped me. That gave me scars on my back and chest." He laughed in a particular way...again. "They burned me, they cut into me with a knife. More scars. And all of it was done, just to hear me scream." Quietly, he said, "They laughed a lot. They were excited by my pain. Do you know what I mean by that? They were...excited."

Tea nodded and held his hand. She looked him in the eyes. And he looked away. Down. He was ashamed. Tea had seen this before...abused people, victims thinking they caused what happened. It was their fault, they believed.

"To this day, Delgado, I cannot scream no matter the pain or fear. Nothing comes. On the boat...situations came up and I should have screamed. Scared like hell...or in fucking pain from something stupid..." He chuckled again and breathed. "I couldn't scream. Nothing...comes. The men...they think I'm some kind of tough guy. But it's not that. I can't bear the sound of my voice."

Tea put her head on his shoulder and he touched her.

"When they bored of their blades, they broke my bones with a bat. They said...'this is Jackie Robinson's bat...see what it can do?' I hear them sometimes...their voices. Their breathing...their...sounds that they made when they were turned on by what they were doing to me. Finally, they locked me in a box to recuperate, all so...so they could start again. Tea, I do not know or understand why I'm alive. Sometimes I think God wants me punished, too. Revenge for the things I've done...for the things I will do."

He smiled at her, caressing her face, her hair. His eyes moved over her, washing over her. "I didn't think of you. I dared not think of you. To think of you would have killed me. I thought of the sky and the ocean. I thought of clouds above me. I thought of a fly that buzzed in the darkness of that room. I watched the cuts on my body scab over and get reopened...and scab over again.." He chuckled and his eyes watered. Tears filled them but did not fall. He tightened his jaw and Tea imagined the sheer force of that. She immediately touched his cheek and he relaxed some, his eyes closing as he pressed hard into her hand. "I'm sorry I ran off today," he said. "I don't know what happened. The men played a bit of a prank and I was in that office and suddenly I was me, really ME...and I knew I had to go home...and it all was there in front of me again. The dark, the pain, the screams in my head."

"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have surprised you this way." She pressed into him and he held her to him. He breathed gently, relieved to feel her again.

"No, nothing to be sorry for. I'm a fucked-up guy who has to man up. I have a family...a life..." He laughed that quiet laugh that Tea was beginning to recognize as an expression of sheer disbelief. He fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "Tea, I wanted to die today. I was going to walk into that ocean so I could stop the images, the memories of everything. The shit done to me...the shit I did to so many others. Marty..." He paused. "There were others you know. Marty wasn't the only one I hurt...like that. She was the worst...but..."

"I know..."

"I'm not a good person, no matter what you think, what you believe...what my sister wants to believe."

Tea said nothing to that. She knew he was...not a good person in some ways. But she knew him in other ways he did not like or care to see. He always denied his goodness.

"Thank you," he said, "for not arguing the point."

Tea laughed softly, "I ain't no fool, Manning. I know exactly who and what you are."

"I'm going to go home with you."

"I know. That is where you belong. With me...with your children. With your family. To unseat Walker as a false god."

With that Todd grabbed her and placed her squarely on top of him. He grunted in a decidedly sexual way. They looked in each other's eyes. Unwaveringly. He grabbed her hips and massaged her ass, whispering, "I was not a gentleman last night."

He moved her against him, until the hardness became evident and she grinned, knowing he was crazy as ever. How does one go from the depths of torture to making love? She wriggled out of her clothes, and she removed his. She placed her body squarely on top of him once again and gasped with pleasure at the depth of their connection. He rocked his head back and moved her more. She straddled him and sat up, moving her hips. Slowly, tortuously slow. When she was close, he'd stop. They'd stop. Many times they did this dance until finally she breathed, "I can't take it anymore."

"You be selfish, Tea...use me." He was beautiful, his body beautiful and tight. The room's sole light threw shadows across him. She nodded and touched his chest, his nipples. He quirked at that, his face serious and eyes low-lidded.

"Use me," he said.

She did, faster and faster, holding onto his shoulders...until she screamed...her beautiful mouth open with hard orgasmic delight. When she looked down at him, those tears had finally fallen from his hazel eyes and he smiled at her. He pulled her down and simply held her in his arms. They crawled under the covers and stayed that way. Warm now, hot now... He loved the sound of her screams because they, unlike his, were full of love and hope.

In his arms, she fell asleep. In the dark, though, Todd remained awake.

He looked towards the morning, when he'd begin his journey back to Llanview...to reclaim everything that was his. And at that confirmation, he knew, the punishment God had given him was indeed preemptive. Because when he landed in Llanview, he realized he finally had the strength, the resolve...the determination...yes, all to do what was necessary to get everything back. When he landed in Llanview, he would do everything in his power to torture and kill Walker. He smiled and squeezed Tea to him. Poor Thar was dead.

No, he'd never be a good person...and so in that vein, in that light of reality, he vowed that he would live to hear the screams of Walker, and then...his blessed, permanent silence.

Welcome home, Todd Manning.


End file.
